Dear parking garage. I drive a big huge SUV which I happen to love. Do you think it would possible to make your parking spots and fucking smaller so I have to drive all the way to the top of the garage until I find an actual space that doesn’t look like it was made for a bicycle. Do you know what kind of anxiety I get when I try and pull into a parking spot and worry that I’m going take out someone’s entire car?
Hey lady on the machine next to me, please stop looking at me. Do I have a booger on my nose or something? Are my granny panties giving me a visible wedgie? WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME? Oh, I know, its because you are transfixed with how my ass jiggles on the elliptical.
To the tiny little small trainer lady, how in the fuck is your body bending like that?
To the scary ab machine in the corner, what exactly do you do? And more importantly HOW DO YOU FUCKING WORK? I’ve read all of your instructions, bent all the ways you said and NOTHING. I don’t get it. Machines like this need to come with tiny little people who sit next to them and tell you what exactly you need to do.
Seriously HOW DO YOU WORK?
Note to thigh machine. I hope you die and rot in hell and get sent to a junk yard where they melt you down and turn you into a spoon that I can use to eat ice cream with.
To the perky lady at the front desk. Obviously you are so perky because you did not just spend the last hour arguing with thigh and ab machines. And seriously, telling me to have a nice day? Really? I’m pretty sure that going home to ice your ass doesn’t count as a NICE DAY.
By the way. When did asses get muscles in them, because fuck my ass muscles hurt.
I have been to the gym four times and my arms still jiggle when I wave. Awesome!
I meet with my trainer next week for my fitness evaluation, and to have my measurements done. I am just going to tell him to mark me down as "giant wuss" who is 500% body fat.
To the lady in the elevator who said my hair was cute, you totally made my day. What did not make my day was seeing a 70 year old lady go to the machine I was just on and add 60 pounds to what I was just lifting. Paging captain wussy, paging captain wussy. What’s that is someone calling me?
Oh hey, you know what helps at the gym? Remembering to bring your water. Ooh, grabbing a towel is good too. There is nothing sexier then a fat chick on an elliptical with boob sweat and ass sweat and enough sweat on her face to slick her bangs back like a rocker girl from the 80’s.
The only good part of my work out today was the part where I left and went to Walmart and bought some Double chocolate fudge slow churned ice cream. Oh yeah, that baby is calling my name as soon as the kids go to sleep (because yes I am that mom who doesn’t share her ice cream).
And finally, am I the only one who always seems to have to fart right when I start working out? And then you spend the next twenty minutes seeing just how tight you can clench your ass muscles together.
(Side note: Of course I don’t fart, I was speaking hypothetically about other people)
(Side side note: Husband please forget you ever read that last paragraph)